Date: Mon, 22 Apr 2019 11:41:11 +0200 (CEST)
From: marin.giustinian@laposte.net
Subject: Fragrance 69

In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the
setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited
for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two
young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A free picture
album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at
<marin.giustinian@laposte.net>. Please remember to help Nifty stay online
by sending your contribution. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.

----------

FRAGRANCE 69
by Marin Giustinian

----------

Nowadays, Dominica Island, Eastern Caribbean

----------

Prologue

Monroe's father is of African descent and his mother, European. He is from
Dominica, a small, independent island in the Caribbean and former British
colony. It's placed just in between two French possessions: Martinique to
the south and the archipelago of Guadeloupe to the north.

He lives in a small cabin he built himself. It's in the shade of the
vegetation that comes down to the beach of a small uninhabited cove in the
northeast of the island, only about a ten minutes walk from of the little
town of Marigot. In spite of his relatively young age of twenty-nine, his
very unique character led him to prefer living alone in the midst of nature
instead of seeking the company of fellow humans, belonging to a community.

On the fringe of land between the exuberance of the jungle, clinging to the
abrupt mountain slopes of the island and the slim strand giving way to the
immensity of the sea, he felt in perfect communion with his surroundings
and above all, with himself. He had decided that being a poor islander,
like nearly everyone on Dominica, would not be a problem for him. He was
rich in all the things he could do away with. No bills, no neighbours to
keep up with, no landlord, and no wife freed him of the drive to work for
money and strive for social recognition.

The only modern conveniences he allowed himself was his smartphone and his
boat. He also had a solar panel needed to keep the phone charged. His old
inboard sea skiff, kept in perfect condition, was safely moored in the
little port of Marigot, just a short walk along the wooded path. He kept a
small pirogue on the beach in front of his cabin for fishing, and, when the
night was dead calm, the pleasure of drifting in the moonlit shimmers of
the sea, soaking up the silvery light glowing on his almost pale, naked
body.

He felt, as he grew into manhood, that he had a special connection with the
spirits of nature, a sense of belonging to their world, heeding his urges
with theirs and enjoying their invisible but ever-present
companionship. Some people considered him being simpleminded, others a
mystic, even a saint... whatever could be their judgement, one thing was
certain: he was one of the most beautiful humans that ever walked the face
of the Earth.

His work consisted in gathering aromatic plants as well as wild flowers and
fruits in the tropical forest. He extracted their essential oils with a
small copper still he kept in his cabin. The Dominica Essential Oils &
Spices Co-operatives Society Limited bought his vials of essential oils. On
the side, he perfumed incense sticks and beeswax candles that he sold in
the village market.

For him, the incense and candles were sacred, celebrating with each scent a
special energy of nature that he called a spirit. But, he had a
mission. Now, the story can begin.

----------

Sunrise on market days in Marigot is a colourful event. Merchants, farmers,
fishermen, and all kinds of artisans and craftsmen hustle and bustle
around, shouting, laughing, spreading out their wares. As Monroe unrolled
his straw mats and set up his layout of incense and candles, a teenage lad
showed up with a bunch of baskets, setting up business just beside him. It
was the first time Monroe had seen the lad on the market. He was a rather
comely young man, almost white, certainly a mix of Kalinago Indian, a
native tribe just south of Marigot, and European. He could have been a
Latino also.

Concentrated on displaying his baskets the best way possible on the
colourful cover spread on the ground, he paid no attention to what was
going on around him. Only when Monroe idled over, looking at the
merchandise, did the boy look up and give a good-morning smile to his first
customer. Monroe smiled back saying the only word he knew in Kalinago,
"Mabrika... hello."

The young man readily replied, looking somewhat puzzled, "Ita Bia!
Kalinago?"

"No, just a local half-breed! 'Mabrika' is the only greeting I know in
Kalinago. But you are Kalinago aren't you?"

"For one half, yes..."

"And you're new on the market!"

"That's right... Gotta learn sometime!" replied the young man.

"By the way, my name's Monroe."

"And mine is Winston. Glad to meet you"

"Glad to meet you too. Did you weave those baskets by yourself?"

"No, my mother and grandmother do that. I just finished school and they put
me to work! And you? That smoke you have burning over there really smells
good! Are you selling smoke?" he teased with a pearly smile.

"I make incense and scented candles. Otherwise, I make plant oils and sell
them to a Co-operative," Monroe said rather nonchalantly... "How much do
you ask for the backpack basket over there? I need it to gather my plants
with."

"I love plants!" Winston exclaimed.

He darted over, picked up the larger backpack basket with canvas straps. It
was just the right size for Monroe, not too big to be cumbersome and big
enough to cram a lot of plants into it while scrambling, hands free,
through the thick jungle vegetation.

"I can let you have it for sixty East Caribbean dollars. Last you a
lifetime!"

"Too much, forty dollars," Monroe quipped back.

"Listen, I feel good today and I love plants... Okay, thirty-five and it's
yours."

"Thirty," stated Monroe, handing him the bills.

Winston tilted his head, flashed a devilishly cute smile and nodded,
saying, "Take it..."

While Monroe tried on the backpack, Winston took the money, put it in his
bag, and came back with an illustrated book showing it with great pride to
Monroe.

"Look, I study plants whenever I have a moment to read. I try to find their
pictures and names in this book. It's not easy. The names are in English,
French and Latin... Isn't that funny? Latin!"

Monroe was quite pleased with his purchase and even a bit more so over the
enthusiasm of the lad. He also liked the way the boy drove a deal. There
being few clients so early in the morning, they had time to strike up a bit
of conversation. Monroe explained why Latin was used all over the world for
plants, no translations needed. Winston drilled him with more questions and
claimed he was interested in distilling oils himself. Monroe tried
explaining to him how it's done.

"That sounds really complicated! Maybe I could come and see if you don't
work too far away?" was his conclusion.

More customers started showing up.

"Sure, why not..."

Monroe hurriedly told Winston where he lived, gave him his phone number and
said he could drop in anytime he wanted -- that is, if he had questions
about the plants he found or if he'd like to see how a still actually
works.

Monroe ran out of stock by eleven and decided to leave the market. He waved
at Winston, who was still busy with two fussy women, haggling over a pile
of baskets. He flashed a sunny smile at Monroe, bringing his thumb to his
ear and his little finger to his mouth, signalling that he would
call. Monroe nodded and went on his way, sporting a handsome new basket on
his back.

----------

Monroe didn't think the lad would call, but two days later when his phone
buzzed, there he was.

"Hello"

"It's me, Winston. The guy with the baskets. You remember."

"I remember."

"Am I still welcome to come down to your cabin?"

"Sure, when?"

"This afternoon?"

"See you then."

That was it.

It was three in the afternoon when Monroe heard Winston, whistling like a
mockingbird, striding along the strand, light as an elf.

"Come on in. Want some herb tea? I was going to brew some for myself."

"Yes, I would, thank you," he said, looking around the frugal one room
cabin. His eyes stopped on the gleaming, polished copper still, throning in
the corner by the stove.

"So that's the magic machine..."

"It's not a machine."

"Sorry."

"When something has a name, use it."

"So that's your still."

"Yes, it's old but it's in great shape. There are smaller ones and even
gigantic ones, like for rum. This one's just right for me."

While the herb tea was brewing, Monroe explained how it worked: The
charcoal burner boils the spring water. The steam rises through the herbs,
absorbing their essence, and goes down the coil immersed in the bucket,
full of cold water. This makes the steam condense, leaving the essential
oil to fall, drop by drop, into the cup. The contents of the cup is then
poured into a special jug, a separator, to draw the oil off the top leaving
the leftover water and impurities beneath. The pure oil is then poured into
the vials and that's it.

"Are you going to make it work soon?"

"Let's drink the tea first and then I'll fire it up. I was planning on
extracting the scent out of lyang-lyang flowers over there. You'll see,
it'll look like magic, but it's not really that mysterious."

Winston was smiling for all he was worth, anticipating the metamorphose of
petals into pure perfume.

As they drank their tea, Monroe asked Winston about his studies, family,
his likes and dislikes. What does his father do, etc.

"I loved school, soccer and plants. Now, I'm out of school and no more
soccer. No father, no brother, no sister. My mother got pregnant with a
passing yachtsman from France and here I am. We live on the edge of the
village, just me, my mother and my grandmother. Grandmother's the boss! I
love doing girl things with her like mending and cooking."

"What's girly about that?"

Winston stalled an instant, then went on, looking down into his mug, "My
grandmother told me that some of us Indian boys are born with two souls,
one's a man-soul and the other, a woman-soul. She says I'm like that. I've
got both. I like being like that, but she says I should never show it,
never let the blacks or whites know about it..."

"Well since I'm both black and white, I guess I don't count, do I?"

"I don't know... I don't even know why I'm telling you all that..."

"To tell the truth, I don't think that only you Indians are the ones with
two souls. Here in the islands, everybody hates queer boys and men, but
every man I know has something queer inside him. When he acts real
macho-like, I'm sure it's just to hide his girly side."

"Ha! I see what you mean!" laughed Winston.

Monroe continued, "Now that you mention it, maybe I've got two souls like
you. That's why you feel like you can tell me what your grandmother sees in
you. It's just nature after all."

"Nature... Yeah, maybe that's why..." Winston said, emptying his cup.

Monroe stood, took the cup and said, "Let's fire up the still."

About an hour later, Winston beamed as he held the half-ounce glass vial of
ylang-ylang oil in his fist.

"That's too kind of you Monroe! A real gift! I'd love to learn your trade,
man!"

"You could ask around to be an apprentice. Apprenticeship is a serious job,
but you learn better than in schools."

"Do you need an apprentice, Monroe?"

"Take it easy, man! Never studied the question. But let me see... If you
really want to learn, you've got to start from the beginning. Would you be
willing to come and help me gather plants next Tuesday? You'll have to get
up really early. We must be in the hills before the sun hits them."

"Of course I do! Where and when do you want us to meet?"

Monroe gave him an appointment at five at his place. They'd take the
pirogue to go to a nearby cove and from there, climb uphill, along the
gully of a stream.

----------

Monroe was happy to have some company but was getting angry when he saw
that the lad was late. As he was pushing off to leave by himself, he heard
the lad shouting as he ran along the strand, "Wait for me! I'm coming!"

"Hurry up, damn it! We've only got about an hour's picking time before it's
too sunny."

They paddled off around the point into a cove and beached in the mouth of a
little stream.

"I know where there's wild orchids and also some cade roots we're going to
dig out."

"I'm really sorry I was late, Monroe... Really I am."

Monroe said nothing more than, "Hang on and follow me."

In the hollow of the stream, the humidity was dense. The earthy odours were
almost edible.

"There they are! The orchids I was looking for. They were waiting for
us. Look at those beauties, my boy!"

"Oh my God, Monroe, they are unbelievable!" exclaimed Winston, whistling
his amazement. A distant bird echoed the sound further up.

"Ha! Sounds like you've got a friend up there!"

"Hope so!"

"You're going to pick them, with love. Choose only the ones that have a
little yellow claw on the tip of the top petal. That means they're just
ripe for yielding their juice. Don't bruise them. Touch them in a way that
they'll feel glad you want them, then you pluck. That way they'll not try
to hang on and surrender between your fingers."

"I understand."

"I'm going a little way upstream to dig up my cade roots," Monroe said as
he left Winston on the job.

Then calling back over his shoulder, he said, "By the way, if a snake shows
up, wish him 'Good Morning'. He won't bother you. Remember, the only
poisonous creatures on the island are people. Ha!"

"I'll remember. Stay in calling distance, just the same!"

As the sun climbed into the day, so did the temperature, sticky and damp,
buzzing with myriads of insects. They were both perspiring when they met
back at the pirogue, baskets full, and ready to paddle back.

Monroe admired the gatherings of his young disciple. The scent of the
basket-load of flowers blended well with the pungent, musky fragrance of
the sweaty young man.

"Well done, Winston. What else do you have there?" asked Monroe as he
picked up a bunch of foliage Winston had stuck on the edge, "looks like
wild lime."

"I felt like it wanted to come with us too..."

"Glad to see you've already started mixing the scents in your mind."

"Really? Thanks, man!"

"Let's go. I think we deserve a good swim after that."

"I didn't bring my swim shorts..."

"What for?"

----------

Around noon, Winston left. Monroe found the peace of his cherished
solitude. He enjoyed some of the fresh fish they had speared together with
a big bowl of beans and rice. Sitting in the breeze on the front porch, he
thought, "Winston gave me energy. At the same time, he absorbed a lot of
mine. But so what! That's life's good side! Both of us giving, neither one
just taking, doing what we feel as it comes and at the same time we did a
good job. I think I'd be a fool to not take him on as an apprentice. All I
have to do is be clear with my conditions. But I'm not in a hurry. I'd
better go sort out the orchids now and wash the cade roots!"

As the evening fell, Monroe was dead tired. He drank a cup of rum... or two
and collapsed on the bed. He was out in a minute.

----------

Monroe was still in bed when a knock on the door woke him up.

"It's me, Winston. You there, Monroe?"

Monroe muttered..."What the... Hold on! Just a minute!"

Monroe staggered around, looking for his pants. He pulled them on and
opened the door to see a double sunshine : the golden dawn dancing on the
wavelets and Winston's smile.

"You told me to come back early. Am I too early?" he meekly asked.

"I told you to come back? What for?"

"You said we'd do some distilling..."

"I said that? Well, if you're here, I guess so. Come on in."

Monroe lit the fire for the tea and pulled out a chair for Winston saying,
"The paddling, the hike up the stream, gathering the plants, the swim and
washing our harvest yesterday in the stream got the best of me. I don't
know why, but with you around, I seem to speed..."

"I'm sorry..."

"No! Don't be sorry! I loved every minute... I like having you around..."

"You mean I can be your apprentice?"

"Hold on there. I thought about that some, but I'll make up my mind about
you later."

"Later when?"

"Well, later after our work today. For the time being, I've got to get my
wits together, drink my tea and then we'll start the job. Did you bring
something to eat or are you going back up for lunch?"

"I got my lunch with me, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind... just let me be for the moment. I need time I wake up,
wash my face and start working. Go take a look at our plants and then take
the boiler and the coil down to the stream and clean them out real nice."

Winston did as told. Monroe washed up and even trimmed his beard some. He
lit the charcoal in the burner and called Winston. They distilled with
infinite patience the whole stock of what they brought back the day before.

"I see why you're not used to hurrying. It takes time to do this work,
thing go slow. No way to hurry them up... Gives you time to think. Do you
think a lot, Monroe?" asked Winston has they sat waiting for the last batch
of orchids to exhale, drop by drop, their essence.

"I think all the time."

"What do you think about?"

"Depends... and you?"

"I don't know if I think or if I dream... for the time being, I dream and
think about you, about what we're doing... and about how happy I am being
here, now!"

"Me too."

The silence was warm between them as they looked at each drop of orchid
essence ooze and then fall into the cup. Then came time for the cade. The
day went by like that. When everything was distilled and the labels marked
on the vials, Monroe said, "That's done... and well done! Go wash out the
still while I put the vials in their shipping box."

When Winston returned and reassembled the still, Monroe had the teapot in
hand with two cups. He said to Winston, "Come out on the porch and let's
talk some."

Winston followed Monroe in silence, not knowing what to expect. Would his
apprenticeship be accepted or refused? He kept his fingers crossed in his
back as he followed Monroe.

They sat facing the ocean. Monroe passed a mug of tea to Winston.

"Thank you, Monroe."

"Tell me, Winston, do you like it down here by the water, away from
everything and everybody? Not too boring for a young guy like you?"

"Not at all! I love it here. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think you're going to be here a lot if you're still interested
learning the trade with me."

"You mean you accept me!"

"I'll accept you only if you accept my conditions. Listen to me all the way
and then give me your answer. I'm dead serious and I want you to be serious
too."

"I'm listening, Monroe. Please tell me what I need to do to be your
apprentice."

Monroe took his time. He drank his tea, sat the mug down beside him, rubbed
his hands together, cleared his throat, and stood. He took a few steps and
turned, facing Winston.

"Okay, here I go: The first condition is that I meet your mother and
grandmother, since you say she's the boss. I need to tell them what we're
doing and what I expect of you. I expect you to be on time, clean, never
absent, never tell me lies, and all that stuff. I'll expect you to be a
perfect gentleman. That's what I'm going to tell them and that's what
you're going to promise me in front of them. I'm not going to ask you nor
them for money. You're not getting paid for working for me, but you're
learning, and learning for free. I'm not a teacher and you're not a
pupil. I want to make that clear with them and with you. I'll tell them
that you are free to leave me whenever you want, but you and they must know
that if you leave, you can't come back. When I tell you that I no longer
have things to teach you, then you can come and go as you like and get your
cut on the work if you stay with me. I'll tell them that in front of you
and you'll tell them that you agree. I want you to bring them here so that
they know me and know where you are when we work together. "

"All that's fine with me. They'll be glad to know you. I've already talked
about you a lot and they..."

"Winston! I am not yet finished."

"Sorry."

Monroe let the sentence seek in, then he continued.

"I'm a simple artisan, a distiller of essential oils like many do here on
the island. You could be an apprentice with them too... But I'm not just an
artisan. There's a difference between me and the other distillers. I have a
mission, a quest, a goal, an aim in what I'm doing other than just selling
the products of my work. I'm looking for a deeper meaning in concentrating
nature in my little vials. If I'm doing that, it's because I'm looking for
something that might sound crazy, but something that is the most important
thing in my life."

There was an intense silence as Monroe figured out how to say what he
wanted to covey to the lad.

"Now I'm going to empty my sack, Winston, and try to understand me. I'm
looking for the perfect fragrance of natural love, the fragrance that makes
us feel the power of real love, the sacred force of love in the universe,
the power of love and the respect of love, of its beauty. I'm going to find
in nature the secret fragrance that reveals the nature of real love, its
mystery, its power, its godliness. Do you follow me?"

Winston nodded.

"My most important condition is that you accept to seek the same thing with
me. There! I've spoken my mind."

There was a deeper, warmer silence between them. The breeze rustled the
palms, the wavelets lapped the sand. Monroe looked at Winston. Winston
looked at Monroe with a pleading smile in his eyes.

Monroe then said, "That's all. Now, what do you say, boy?"

Winston didn't lower his eyes in the least as he said with youthful
conviction, "What you want, I want too."

Monroe held out his hand. Winston stood and stepped up. They shook hands
and both laughed.

"Are we going to find that fragrance, man?" shouted Monroe as he patted
Winston on the shoulder.

"We're going to find it, man! That's for sure!"

"So you're willing to work also with your heart, your guts and your
feelings too. I don't have any recipes, just insight. But this I do know:
We can't find the fragrance of love if we don't cast our egos and our past
ways into the fire, and become transparent and pure. Only that way can
nature feel free to let the best of love reveal itself to us, in us."

"I don't understand your words, Monroe, but I feel your heart behind the
words. I trust you. That's the raw, naked truth! I trust you all the way."

"That's a good start, Winston. Now go back home, tell your mother and
grandmother that we want to talk with them down here at my place. You call
me to say when you'll come. You can leave now. I still have work to do."

"See you later... and, thank you."

"Save your thanks for later. There's a lot of work ahead!"

"Thank you, ANYWAY, Monroe!" he sang out as he skipped away down the beach
into the setting sun.

----------

Winston, his mother and grandmother met with Monroe the following
day. Everything was settled. The only thing they requested was to let
Winston sell their baskets in the market one morning a week. Monroe added
that he could sell their things with the baskets too. Everybody was
happy. Now the real work could begin and begin, it did.

Monroe showed Winston how to make incense sticks using makko powder and
guar gum on slivers of bamboo. They then soaked the dried sticks in
selected combinations of essential oils and let them dry. Winston carved
some wooden incense stick holders in cedar heart. It looked great and
Monroe was sure it would help sales.

Also, Monroe showed Winston how to make the scented candles out of the
honeycombs he bought from the local beekeeper.

This was the production side of their collaboration. On the research side,
they set out to test the thousand and one combinations possible, looking
for new, inspiring fragrances, be it with flowers, barks, wood shreds,
spices, algae, everything that grew, lived and embellished the island's
uniqueness.

Winston said they could make body oil, perfume it with their scent extracts
and sell it for massage, after-sun lotion and whatever. Monroe agreed and
they studied what to use as oil. They needed an oil with the least scent
possible. This excluded fruit oils such as coconut or maracuja. Palm oil
was out too. The best and least expensive was to make algae oil
themselves. At the foot of the cliffs, there were abundant patches of
algae, easy to harvest by only diving a few feet under and the subtle sea
scent could add a touch of vastness to the perfume.

They seemed to be so busy that there was little time for anything
else. Monroe began feeling the need to be alone more than just in the
evenings. He needed to find his own rhythm again.

One evening after work he brought up the subject with Winston.

"Winston. I've got to slow down a little. We make incense but we don't burn
it together. Let's be more like the incense. It burns slower so that the
smoke can rise and disappear leaving only the presence of its fragrance in
the air. Let's take time to become sublime, to smell, feel, and enjoy what
we make and let new desires and ideas blossom. Let's take time for
ourselves, by ourselves. The fragrance we seek needs to come to us as much
as we need to try and catch it. If perfumes, scents and fragrances exist,
it's to draw love, change us inside, open our minds and our hearts. Let's
work more for that than for production."

As Monroe softy spoke, gazing into the late afternoon clouds, Winston
listened with infinite attention. He was sitting close to Monroe on the
porch, so close that their shoulders touched. Neither realised that their
energies were mingling like the scents of their essential oils, radiating
peace in the luminous, simple pleasure of just being together.

"I think it's best we work together for production only in the morning. We
already have a good stock for the co-operative. We have enough candles and
incense for at least three to four markets. That way, in the afternoons, we
can take our time, each one on his own. We can seek new plants, try out new
smells and combine them and share our results whenever we feel like
it. I've decided to build a back porch onto the cabin and set up the still
and the tables out there for making the incense sticks and candles. That
way, you don't have to come into the cabin to work on your own, you can
come and go, and me too, each one at his own pace, following his own
intuition, seeking the same undefinable but deeply felt goal. What do you
think, man?"

"I think it's worth a try. Do we start tomorrow?"

"No, tomorrow, I want to take you to town in Portsmouth, just for some fun
together. Go eat in a restaurant, shop some. Go and buy the wood and
hardware for the porch and let the still cool off some. Is that a good idea
I have there, Winston?"

"Couldn't be better!"

Winston jumped up doing a little happy-dance, then opened his arms facing
Monroe, and stated, "Listen, Monroe, I've got a favour to ask of you."

"What for?"

"For a hug!"

----------

The boat ride around the northern tip of Dominica was a great treat for
Winston. It was his first trip offshore. He sat hushed in the front of the
boat, just gazing at the distant islands of Guadeloupe on one side and the
mountain top of Dominica on the other.

"I didn't realise the mountains were so high. When you're on them you can't
see them."

"It's sort of like that with people. When you're too close, you don't see
each other. You have to back away sometimes to see all of each other, all
the way."

Winston just gave him a thumbs up, winking at him and then exclaimed, "Look
at the dolphins jumping! They're just as happy as I am!"

The day in town was fun. They ate a full meal in a small restaurant full of
people and loud music. Monroe bought a pair of bright red sneakers for
Winston and Winston insisted on buying Monroe a pair of sunglasses.

"Makes you look real mysterious!" he said, proud of his gift, and even
prouder of his man!

They also bought a box of nails and loaded the boat full of planks for the
porch. When they got back, they went into the bay just in front of the
cabin. They threw the planks in the water and while Monroe took the boat
back to the port, Winston waded and swam, rounding up their wood, stacking
it high on the beach. He was just swimming around naked when Monroe
returned.

When Winston saw him, he ran up and grabbed Monroe in a big hug.

Monroe fussed, sputtering, "You're getting me all wet!"

"I don't care, man! Just hug me back!"

Monroe broke out laughing and said, "Wait a minute! Let me strip and swim a
stroke or two with you!"

It was a beautiful sight to see the two handsome fellows, naked as
innocence itself, their plumped up cocks bouncing around as they ran and
dove into the warm clear water, frolicking, splashing, wrestling as if they
were both just ten old year kids raising hell together.

----------

It only took them two days to build their porch and thatch it over with
palms. They set up business out there. It was much cooler and Monroe found
the newly available, personal space inside his cabin simply wonderful.

Their plan worked. There were no longer any moments of friction nor waiting
for each other. Their production routine worked well in the mornings. Each
one did what he wanted after lunch. They took tea together at the end of
the day, discussing what they had done... or not done, during that
time. They just enjoyed the way life was guiding them. It almost became a
habit to take their naked swim together when the wind and waves didn't
decide otherwise.

Monroe worked mostly on combining existing essences for incense and
candles, trying to optimise the scents that were deeply modified by
burning. He let Winston use the still as much as the fellow wanted and
really enjoyed watching him at work. The growing lad's tenacity was
fascinating. It made a big impression on Monroe. Winston indulged in
distilling all kinds of matter: plants, bark, flowers, etc., with reckless
abandon. With his extracts, he combined them, making improbable blends such
as mountain plants with seaside plants, barks with flowers, roots and buds,
etc. The boy's creative audacity seemed to be limitless.

From time to time, Winston disappeared with the pirogue to gather plants in
the inaccessible nooks and crannies of the cliffs. One day, he found a
small shrub bearing blood red pods, like peppers, growing right at the foot
of the cliffs, exposed to sea foam. When he asked Monroe what it was, his
mentor replied that he had never seen such a plant before.  They looked for
it in the book but found nothing like it. A discovery! The pods had a deep,
lingering odour that intrigued and excited Winston to no end. Monroe felt
that his apprentice's imagination was now boiling over!

The next day, Monroe said he had some work sanding and varnishing the boat
and left his apprentice to work alone. Winston distilled the unknown pods
and combined the essence with that of the wild orchid bulbs and mountain
jasmine. The resulting fragrance had a strange effect on him. He stayed
erect, leaking with lust while combining the fluids. When Monroe came back,
Winston dabbed some of the mixture on him and asked Monroe to sniff it. The
young man was writhing like a cat in heat, his voice having suddenly become
deeper. As Monroe leaned in to smell his companion, he felt the lad's erect
cock against his thigh. The scent cast its spell on him too. When Winston
started to pull Monroe's shirt off, he didn't resist.

"Come swim with me, Monroe. I need to cool off," Winston cooed, caressing
Monroe's chest, then exclaiming, "Good God! Monroe your skin is so soft!"

They went on undressing each other, rubbing each other in a sort of
haze. Once they were naked, their cocks pressing together, they began
laughing and ran into the water. They kept on tumbling and sliding their
lithe bodies together, groping and grabbing each other's stiff cock,
feeling a growing sensation of lust taking over.

In the midst of play, suddenly, Winston broke away and ran up on the beach,
leaving Monroe in total dismay. The youth shuddered, covered his face,
exclaiming "Jesus sees us and he'll send me to hell! I'm a wretched sinner!
I'll burn forever in hellfire! What am I doing? My soul is in the claws of
Satan. Oh my God! Save me, Lord! Save me!"

Monroe ran up to him on the strand, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook
him, shouting, "What the hell, Winston! Stop wailing shit like that! Who
tells you that kind of crap? What we're doing is harmless, fun and natural!
What's the problem?"

"The preacher!"

"What does the preacher have to do with us? With you and me here having
fun?"

"He wants Jesus to save us, save us all."

"Save us from what, man? Do you see any sharks lurking out there? I don't!"
he joked, opening his arm to the sea.

Winston gathered his wits some, calming down. Feeling the power of Monroe
beside him, he breathed deeply kneeling down on the sand in front of
Monroe. After a few seconds of silence, Winston looked up at Monroe with
lost eyes, "I don't know what he wants to save us from, Monroe... I don't
know. I don't know a damn thing anymore. I just know that I feel... I feel
you are in my life, in me... in my heart, man..."

Monroe reached down and urged Winston to stand. They hugged.

"Let's get dressed," quietly said Monroe, squeezing Winston's shoulder.

Winston smiled back at Monroe. They picked up their clothes and side by
side, they went back to the front porch, dressed and sat together facing
the sea.

"Powerful scent you found there, man..."

"It opened me up to myself... it opened me up to you, Monroe... and I'm so
confused with my happiness!"

Winston calmly commented, "Let's talk about the preacher since he's
aggravating your peace of mind."

"Okay, if you want... He's a nice man... but..."

"Listen, if the preacher man finds something wrong with nature jubilating
in us, that means he wants you to be like the way he says you should be,
like the way he uses the Bible to say how you should be. He doesn't want
you to be free and be the way you really are, be the way God made you to
be. You can't be saved from being yourself, from the way God's nature
shaped your soul."

"But he says that we're all sinners by nature!"

"Bullshit! God made nature, not Satan. The story about the Garden of Eden
is a fairytale. The truth is that we're not creatures made to live behind
the walls of a damn garden. We were put on earth to run wild enjoying God's
nature and God's nature comes supplied with volcanoes too. Nobody can stop
them from erupting. We menfolk have a volcano in us too that needs to enjoy
erupting too. Think about that! All your preacher wants is your money and
submission. He wants you to be happy like dogs in his kennel and that's
all. Believe me. I know what I'm saying."

Winston was on the verge of sobbing. He stepped out on the beach, shaking
his hands over his head, saying, "Oh Shit, man! I don't know what to think
anymore. I don't know who to believe."

Then he turned and came back to Monroe whispering between his teeth, "Maybe
the devil is at work in those plants I was combining, driving me mad with
lust for you, Monroe."

Monroe laughed out loud.

"It can't be the devil, Winston! The devil has many more wicked things to
do than to hide himself in a perfume. The devil doesn't bother with
nature. He bothers with what people do for money, for power, for possessing
the souls of other people, for fucking up the planet. Don't you see how the
devil makes people hate each other's difference. He's sicking people one
against the other like men do in dog fights. Look at what the white folks
did to the Indians, to the Blacks... making them become slaves or just
killing them out like they kill animals, just to get rid of them and take
over. Look how some people treat us half-breeds... My flesh and yours carry
the work of the devil down that line!"

"It was the devil in that tourist that used my mother... Am I the son of
Satan?"

"Shit man! Don't mix up everything! If your mother let him fuck her, it's
because she felt love for him. There's no devil in that. The devil is in
the fact that the tourist just fucked her and ran -- no love involved. The
devil can't bear love. Love put you in your mother's belly, not the devil!
Your genitor was already fooled by the devil in thinking he could do what
he wanted with a redskin. He could just get his rocks off in her since he
was white... His rocks were natural and there you are! The poor fool's
heart and head were no longer natural simply because the devil made him
think he was better than us. I thank God that you're here and I'm sure your
mother and grandmother do too. You're here because she loved, not because
he fucked and ran. In fact, nature used that tourist's juice to make you
come into the world. Love stole it from him, but he didn't know that he was
the victim of the devil... not you."

Monroe was all fired up explaining those things. His growing attachment to
the lad freed feelings he had repressed for years now.

"Let me tell you more about Satan, boy!" Monroe said, standing and speaking
for the first time with deep sadness, glistening with hate in his eyes.

"My dad was black and my mother a quadroon. She looked like a full blooded
white girl. They loved each other. They took me with them out of this
island to go to America looking for a better life. As a better life, they
got killed by the Americans -- by the white, church going evangelical
Americans who thrive on doing Satan's business, in the name of God! They
hate, hiding behind the religion of love. That whole country up there is
sick in the head with religion and hate. Religion and hate kill! They
killed my dad and raped my mother, fucking her to death because they
claimed that only the Devil can put a black man's dick in a white woman's
cunt. For them, there was no way that their 'Jesus' could let them love
each other and I, the half breed, the fruit of sinful abomination, was just
good enough to lick their asses before they stuck their dicks up my ass,
tearing me apart, raping me too. There's no way that there's any
Jesus-business with that. I was only twelve but I was already twelve. It
was in Alabama. That group of white trash committing murder with their
dicks was getting drunker by the minute. I managed to run away. I fled for
my life, dying in my ass, bleeding down my legs. I was found, huddling in a
garden shed behind a little wooden house. I passed out, hoping to never
wake up. An elderly black lady did wake me up. I screamed and scrambled
trying to get out. She said, 'Don't fret little man. I'm not going to hurt
you, boy.' She took me in, gave me some salve to calm the wounds in my
asshole. She said that'll do you good, boy. She said she made the stuff
herself with herbs. She was all I had left. I broke down and told her all
my story. I thought I was going to die from weeping, vomiting, screaming
out all the evil stuffed down in me. She took me in and went to a lot of
trouble getting people to help smuggle me back home to Dominica, back home
where I could tend to myself. Every time I tried to thank her, she just
said, 'It's only natural, honey.' You see, Winston, that's Jesus-business
working. He works in natural things, thwarting the Devil, outside of his
walled in garden, because it's the Devil who made an orphan out of me, who
got my ass torn up getting raped by those high and mighty, righteous,
nigger killers, who laughed, tying up my father and slitting his throat,
who fucked the life out of my mother and then fucked the ass of her child
they held as he screamed for help. Nature and Jesus made me a free man, a
man free to be me and to be me with you here and now. There's no Devil in
what nature, fun and youth urged us to do, Winston, because what we did
doesn't interest the Devil. He's too busy doing evil business through
righteous people, judging other people's lives. In fact Satan shuns you and
me for what we did because he shuns real love!"

"You... you love me, Monroe?"

"My God yes, Winston! I do love you! I believe Jesus, Winston -- I believe
Jesus and I believe nature and both Jesus and nature tell me to love
you. It's my heart who tells me so. You see, man, long before Jesus was
born, love and sex between men existed. Jesus never said a word about
that. In all his teachings about many, many things, he never said that love
and sex between people like us should be condemned. But what Jesus calls
sinful IS sin. He could even get out his whip and chase the righteous
people working in their church. The same Jesus, hearing that his lover
friend, Lazarus, was dead, he wept and called him out of the tomb! If he
doesn't call something a sin, then it's not a sin and what's not a sin is a
virtue of nature. Do you hear me, man? He never said that our kind of love
is a sin! Believe your heart. Believe nature. What does nature tell you?
Where is there a simple trace of Satan in nature? Your preacher and the
devil say one thing. Nature, Jesus, and I say another. Your heart must
choose the one who sets you free to be yourself, to love and grow and be
happy. It's up to you."

"My heart tells me it's you who set me free!" exclaimed Winston as he threw
himself on Monroe, grabbing him in a long, long hug. While clinging to him,
he even wept some. Monroe let him do it, hugging him back, gently rocking
him a little. They just hugged. After a while, Winston went limp and
uttered, "I'm so tired, Monroe... I think I need to go now. I need to go
home."

"That's a good idea, Winston. Go rest up some. See you tomorrow."

"I'll be here, Monroe. I love you too... and Thank you!"

"It's only natural, honey-boy! Ha!"

----------

The next morning, Winston showed up nice and smiley again. They hugged,
drank a tea together and organised their day.

"Listen, Winston, the weather's perfect to go to Portsmouth in the boat. I
need to do some serious shopping to put a decent roof on our back
porch. The thatch isn't working well and we need to screen it in because of
the bugs. I think it would be good for you to work some more on that potent
concoction you made yesterday. It's really powerful. Just let it work on
you some more. Maybe you're on the breach of finding that fragrance of love
we're seeking. Don't be upset by religion, stay faithful to your mission,
to our mission and forget their stupid restrictions. It can't do any harm
if it makes you lusty again. You know how to take care of it if it gets too
tough," he said making the familiar, jack-off gesture with his hand down in
front of his crotch.

Winston laughed.

"You know, Monroe, I thought a lot about what we talked about. I don't care
if you're the devil or not. What you said to me did me a lot of goddamn,
holy good -- and I want to thank you..."

Monroe interrupted him saying, "It's only natural..."

"I knew you'd say that! But let me finish. I already thanked you before
going to sleep last night. I thought about you and took care of thanking
you just like that too!" he giggled some, wiggling around, jerking his hand
just like Monroe did.

"I'm flattered! But work on balancing your potion too! Make a new
distillation and mixture. If the fragrance is still as fantastic and
effective on you as yesterday... then do what you have to do. Whatever
happens, when I get back, I want us to work together on the
formula. There's a lot of love energy involved in it. We can improve it
together. Would you like for me to do that with you?"

"I need you to do that, please!"

"If the wind doesn't rise, I should be back not too late in the
afternoon. Help yourself to what you find in the pantry for lunch. You'll
need to feed yourself, I'm sure!"

----------

The next morning, Monroe was already gone when Winston arrived. He
immediately went back to work on his formula and the more he worked, the
more the urgency of lust became persistent. He finished the combination and
couldn't stand it any more. He jerked off and spewed his semen in the
potion.

Why? He didn't even think about that. It was just evident that it was the
thing he had to do. He had to make his offering too. The milky substance
slowly dissolved in the cup. The scent became deeper, calmer with notes of
mellowness. It had lost its sharp, somewhat prickly tang.

Feeling less feverish, he went about pressing oil out of the algae he had
gathered and dried. It was a strenuous task and the exercise did him good.

He took a swim to cool off, ate a bite or two and went back to the oil
press. Then he lit a fire to burn the remains of the algae so that only the
smell of the sea remained in the air and in the oil.

The wind had risen and there were white caps out beyond the cape. When he
saw Monroe's boat entering the bay, he felt his heart throb in his chest
and his mouth went dry. He pushed the pirogue into the water and paddled
out to meet him. Together, they unloaded the boat.

"Good day to you!" he shouted as he threw the anchor overboard.

"How was the trip back?"

"Wet!"

"Did you find all you needed town, Monroe?"

"Yes, I did... and how was your day, Winston boy?"

"You'll see!"

They shuttled screening, shingles, battens, tar paper and chip boards in
three trips. Winston stacked the stuff up by the cabin while Monroe took
the boat back to port.

As he waited for Monroe to return, he checked on his mixture and saw it had
completely settled. The fragrance filled his nostrils and the effect on him
was immediate. He was shaking with lust. His mouth watered and his hands
trembled as he carefully poured into a clean cup the clear oil off the
dregs remaining in the bottom of the separator. He covered the cup with a
saucer and put it in the shade.

He saw Monroe coming up the beach and couldn't help himself. He ran towards
him, the scent of his concoction still lingering on his fingertips. He
stopped just in front of Monroe, ran his fingers through his hair and held
out his arms for a hug.

"Do I smell the perfume of your work in your hair?" asked Monroe as he
released Winston from his embrace.

"I guess you do," he said, sniffing his fingers as they walked side by
side, back to the cabin, "I worked on the formula all day long and pressed
almost a pint of algae oil too."

Monroe took Winston's hand as they walked and brought it to his nose,
inhaling a deep lung-full. Enthralled, he smelled once more, saying nothing
at first. As he felt a glowing emotion rise inside, he squeezed his
companion's hand and simply said, "Let me smell a drop of it in one of your
arm pits."

"Why that, Monroe?"

"Our bodies express the smell of our feelings in our pits and pubes. When
we put fragrances there, they enhance our own fragrance... or stench... Ha!
It depends on how we're feeling..."

They went inside. Monroe poured himself a tall glass of cold tea
exclaiming, "I'm dying of thirst all of a sudden... must be the sun or is
it you that make me need to drink! Ha! Go fetch your work, man!"

Winston came back, bearing the cup still covered with the saucer. When he
took the saucer off, the fragrance invaded the warm, immobile air of the
room. The wind outside seemed to pick up, making the palms rustle overhead.

"Fantastic!" gasped Monroe, "dash a drop... just a tiny drop, mind you,
under an arm and rub it in."

Winston did as was told, excited to see Monroe so enthusiastic.

"That's good. Now come closer."

He bent over, holding Winston's arm in the air and whiffed his pit.

"It's close to what we're looking for... but it's not yet quite that," he
muttered, inhaling again.

"I want to smell it on you, Monroe."

"That's fair! My pleasure!"

He stripped off his shirt and dabbed a drop under an arm too. He then
raised his arm as Winston approached his face. The moment was intensely
intimate, pure and luminous. The two men scented each other like animals
do, gently at first, then just a little bit wilder. Monroe pulled Winston's
shorts down and rubbed a drop of essence into the lad's pubes, never
minding his throbbing cock, drooling crystal clear slick from its tip,
smearing Monroe's cheek as he leaned in breathing deeply.

"Me too!" breathlessly whispered Winston as he tugged on Monroe's pants.

There too, a very stiff and wet cock greeted him. He dabbed Monroe's pubes
with his fragrance and then seizing the shaft of his master's perfect cock,
engulfed it, sucking it, seeking it, swallowing it as Monroe moaned,
thrusting slightly, his head abandoned, thrown back, his eyes closed in
rapture.

Instinct dominated as youth thirsted maturity's essence...

Maturity surrendered it's essence to quench youth's needs.

A sudden, high pitched howl resounded in the cabin as Monroe spewed
abundant globs of semen into Winston's eager mouth and down his
throat. Some drooled on his lips as he coughed a bit and obeying some
mysterious urge, he turned and spat the rest of Monroe's offering, mixed
with his own saliva, into the cup, joining the semen already present in the
mixture.

Monroe grabbed him, held him tight in his arms and covered his face with
kisses. Their mouths met. Their tongues danced. They stumbled, still
clinging to each other, and fell on the bed. Monroe licked Winston's chest,
his heart, his tits, his belly and as the lad trembled and writhed, he
sucked on the young, straining cock until his thirst was quenched too with
a deep, grunting sigh.

"Oh my God! my God!" Winston shouted, over and over again, grabbing
Monroe's hair and pulling him up to his face.

They kissed, catching their breath, squirming in their sweat, clenched
together. Winston began to hum. Monroe hummed with him. A kind of chant
rose as their voices melded on the background of the waves' rhythm pounding
the sand. From deep within their throats, a soft sound of laughter rose
until they wept in the joy of that sacred instant.

The setting sun skimmed the foam-streaked waves. They lazily untangled
their gleaming bodies. Monroe lit the oil lamp. The golden glow fell upon
their smiles as they stared into each other's soul for the first time.

Monroe went over and breathed in the fragrance from the cup once more. The
combination of both men's semen created the perfect fragrance they sought
and finally found. Winston was sprawled on the bed, wanton, legs open, his
cock dribbling once more. Monroe climbed back on the bed and covered
Winston, nibbling his ear, whispering, "We have found the fragrance of
love."

Winston jerked and turned over on his belly under Monroe, writhing some.

"The algae oil is in the pantry on the back porch, Monroe. I need you in
me... I need you now... Please... Don't let me languish anymore!"

A full, pregnant moon cast its eternal spell. Clouds sped their shadows
through its milky beams. The silver light, flowing through the closed
windows, crept across the bed as the hours slid towards dawn. The gentle
moans and giggles of the two lovers met the song of the gale winds
blowing... or was it just the wild dance of angels, celebrating above, the
sublime explosions of their erupting love?

----------

Winston told his mother that he was moving in with Monroe for several
days. They were constantly sucking each other, collecting at the same time
each other's semen. They collected and distilled more and more of the
plants that went into the creation of their fragrance of love.

Their souls continued to merge deeper and deeper as they performed their
ritual of mutual fellatio. The blending of their offerings, bathed in each
other's saliva, with the essences of their plants, led them to a deeper
communion with the thriving nature of their special island.

Their productive communion, sucking each other to orgasm, led to a more
intimate communion when they surrendered to the lavish penetration of each
other. Little by little, their sex became rituals as if they were sacred
acts of worship, acts of art. They scented the algae oil with their potion
and massaged each other, anointing their cocks, and in the glow of their
scented candles and the haze of their incense, they slid in and out of each
other, loving late into every night, serenaded by the jungle sounds above
and the rolling sea beyond.

They perfected the formula with several variations of intensity, creating
milder or higher levels of potency, experiencing total immersion in
nature's most powerful expression of love and creation together.

----------

Winston went as usual to the weekly market in Marigot to sell his mother's
baskets. He and Monroe agreed that he could put just a whiff of their
aphrodisiac fragrance on him, just to see how others, males and females,
reacted. With the girls and ladies, they only complimented his good
smell. Nothing more. However some of the menfolk and boys lingered longer
than usual before the baskets along with Monroe's ordinary candles and
incense on sale. One older man and later a younger one actually stared
longingly at Winston, without reserve. It was evident that each one was
confused and yet attracted, both mysteriously drawn by the air around
Winston's person.

The proof that the fragrance had an erotic appeal only on other males
happened as Winston was packing up after the market. Three of his younger
school mates, on their way to soccer practice, stopped by and engaged
conversation with Winston. Usually they just waved hello. As they were
talking two of them kept on touching Winston, then teasingly touching each
other, obviously aroused, feeling randy. The third, unaffected and clearly
less refined than his buddies, pulled the two others away saying, "Come on
and stop acting like poofs!"

When Winston returned to the cabin, he told Monroe about what happened on
the market place and his encounter with his school chums.

"Our love fragrance works only on boys and menfolk who have, hidden deep
down inside, our kind of feelings. For the ladies, it only smells good. Our
potion could really help a lot of mates who could free that part of
themselves with our frangrance. They deserve experiencing what we
experience, Monroe," explained Winston as they strolled along the beach.

"I'm sure you're right, man... but we need to think about how to get it to
them, where to sell it, with whom and all that, without getting in
trouble. Even if many guys feel sometimes in life what we feel, it's
something that still has to be hidden around here. You know that better
than I do!"

"Yes, you're right..."

Still thinking, Monroe went on, "On the other hand, as you say, our
fragrance could help them to recognise each other and free all that built
up love that nature's put in them, like in us, that's stifling under
secrecy, shame and fear. That's a fact..."

"Listen Monroe, more and more tourists are coming through our island. You
can tell that a lot of them are chi-chi, batty boys, guys like us. The
difference between them and us is that they show it. Couldn't we find
places to sell it to them? The word would leak out anyway and the local
islanders that fancy going with the tourists could be touched that way
too. We could make scads of money, live better, work less and have more
time for loving! Don't you think I'm a clever business man?"

"You've got a point there, lover-boy!"

They talked about the use of making more money than they already needed,
about the dangers of exploiting nature too much, about getting caught up in
the 'system'. They knew that their fragrance was rare and difficult to
make. It combined the wildness of the jungle, the spiritual elevation of
the the mountains, the immensity of the sea and the delicateness of
flowers. Then there was the precious presence of mixed, loving semen. Just
to make that special fragrance would be a full time job, not to mention the
candles and incense.

"Listen, Monroe, we won't forget our philosophy. We're not weak nor
crazy. All we need to do is help men and boys let their souls soar some,
discovering each other and sharing their hidden desires in the light of our
fragrances."

"Putting it that way, that sounds good! Hold on a second. I've got an idea"
exclaimed Monroe.

Winston sided up next to his lover and took his hand, waiting for him to
speak again.

"I know this guy who runs a guest house in Portsmouth. His name's Terry,
Terry... something or other. He's a Brit and I'm sure the way he flaunts
around, he must cater to the fag set. Whatever... Listen, the guy's really
cool. It won't be the least bit of a problem to come out to him, I'm
sure. We could ask to see if we can try to sell some of our fragrance in
his place. Let's make a little batch of body oil, incense sticks and
candles, take the boat and go."

"Now?"

"Now!"

----------

Terry listened to them with great interest. He took a sniff and said,
"Boys, you're damn right! Powerful potion... Leave me some. I've got a gay
sailboat cruise, full of guys coming in for the night before taking the
plane next week. Each cruise ends up here in my place. I know the
captain. I'll burn some incense in the bar at happy hour and display your
body oil and candles. What do you call your potion?"

Winston and Monroe shot a blank look at each other. Then Winston directly
announced, "Fragrance 69."

Terry smiled and said, "That's a great name, but we need a ticket, a label,
something to make it look legitimate and not under the counter, voodoo
stuff, if you see what I mean."

"Give me an hour and we'll bring what you need back here, hand-made,
elegant and all!"

Monroe still looked blank.

"Come on, Monroe. Do you know a shop in town with good paper, kraft,
cardboard... anything like that?"

"What do you want to do, man?"

"Create our label!"

They found the right heavy duty paper. They also bought a pack of string
labels, a red felt pen, and a stick of glue. They went back to the guest
house. While Monroe and Terry chatted some, Winston quickly penned on each
label a stylised 'six' with the tail of a 'nine' hanging from it. The
meaning of the symbol, the logo, was evident and elegant at the same
time. He then quickly tore strips of paper and wrapped a sleeve around each
candle, gluing the ends. He penned the same logo with the six and the nine
sharing the same circle. The result was perfect. Only the logo, nothing
else written to trace the objects.

"Wow, guys! That's really first class!" exclaimed Terry, "now tell me how
much do you want for each article?"

Monroe replied, "How much do you think they could be worth?"

Terry thought a moment and came up with a series of prices in East
Caribbean dollars, Euros, US dollars and Pounds Sterling.

"Let me take twenty percent and the remaining eighty is for you, Monroe,"
said Terry.

"You mean for me AND for Winston."

"Yeah, that's what I meant," he said, smiling at Winston, then at
Monroe... "Sure! that's what I meant, fellows. Great! I'll call to tell you
how it went."

Terry called a week later. The results were stunning. Terry ordered another
stock saying they could raise the price... even double it!

----------

Epilogue

They went to work and made a limited production of FRAGRANCE 69 and
returned to Portsmouth. Terry's reaction was clear : they doubled the
price. It was expensive, but worth it. He also told them of a gay-only bed
and breakfast on the neighbouring French Island of Marie Galante. Between
the French place and Terry's they discovered that they could probably sell
all they could make.

Monroe asked him to call this French guy for an appointment. Terry
immediately rang them up and explained everything. An appointment was set
for the following week.

"The fellow's name is Jean-Pierre. He's really nice. The place is called
Matin Heureux... Happy Morning. Make a good deal!" wished Terry as they
left, cash in pocket.

The next day, Winston and Monroe went back to work, taking their time with
the labels, sleeves, and each other.

They left for Marie Galante, found the Matin Heureux, and were greeted by a
Jean-Pierre, happy to meet them.

He was really impressed. Every evening at the Matin Heureux, there was a
party by the pool. Monroe, Winston and Jean-Pierre set up a display and lit
incense and candles a bit everywhere. The pool became the stage of a
wonderful orgy! They sold all they had brought. Jean-Pierre wanted to buy
the recipe, offering a small fortune. Both Winston and Monroe refused. They
explained that it would offend the spirits of the island.

Jean-Pierre thought they were crazy, but had to accept their position.
However, he did persuade them to split their production exclusively between
Terry and himself, and keep both places stocked.

"Listen guys, when the news hits Paris, we're going to be invaded!" claimed
Jean-Pierre, "You better prepare yourselves!"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there..." stated Winston, "and thanks
for everything!"

"Yes, thanks a lot, Jean-Pierre, Merci!" added Monroe.

The two lovers sang all the way coming back!

----------

Winston's mother and grandmother blessed them when Winston moved in with
Monroe to stay. Monroe thanked them from the bottom of his heart.
Grandmother's reply was so true, so simple.

"It's only natural, dear. That's the mystery of love. That's nature's
business, man! Nature and Jesus! Come by our place as often as you can and
stay out of trouble, both of you! Don't forget, I'm the boss! Give me
some... some ordinary candles..."

----------

A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon
request, giving the title, at <marin.giustinian@laposte.net>